Two in One

This morning my Aunt Judy called me on her way to work, again. This has become one of my favorite changes/additions to my mornings since I got Gwin. It's so good to have someone to share this with, and family to top it off, who knows how I feel and has so much experience with what I'm going through. It's also great to hear her advice and ask her all my questions. :)

After Zeek and I finished with school we went to see Gwin. Zeek read and did some copywriting while I did some ground work in the pen. We're still working on her turning in toward me when I stop her. I can't wait to pick Linda's brain about this tomorrow when we meet her for Zeek's lesson.

Things went well with Gwin. She got lots of good exercise, however, I didn't feel like she turned in willingly at all. It was much cooler outside than it was yesterday for our round pen work. Not sure if that worked for or against me.

After that Zeek and I returned home. I decided around 4:30p I was going to go back out for a trail ride. Sari stayed with Zeek, who went downstairs to watch a movie with his dinner. Greg would be home within the hour.

I took Gwin out back of Gwen's place first. She went well. Then I tried to take her across the street. She tried to kill us both a couple of times, backing into nowhere when I asked her to move her feet forward. She did NOT want to get out on those trails again. I used some persistence, and continued to ask anyway. She would agree to go, and then just as we'd be on top of something dangerous on either side, she would balk and then back into the danger just enough to freak me out. I caught on to this quickly and stopped relenting to her stupidity. I dared her to walk us into the ravine, off the edge of the hill, down the rocky slope, into a tree, etc... And she pushed her back hoof right to the edge, daring be back each time.

I received this as disrespectful nonsense, and decided to do what everyone has encouraged from the start. I asked her to move with a slight squeeze of my legs. When she didn't I asked her with a light tap of my boots to her sides. When she didn't, I counted two taps followed by one good kick in the side. It killed me to do it. I know I can't hurt her, but it isn't the physical things I've been protecting between us. It's the heart of our connection. I hated to have sunk to this.

But by the third time she balked after this tactic, she was agreeing to walk forward by gentle tap number two, and we were on our way.

She and I went farther on the trail than we'd ever gone alone together. Across the street and to the most beautiful open hills. I was proud of her. It was a great ride.